Sad People

Sad people like me are loaded guns

Maybe this is the reason why people walk away

Stand at a running distance

And talk through silence 

Because they know

A simple hello would never yield a hello in return

But the composition of all that has ever gone wrong

Sad people like me never make good friends

Because we are always the ones in need

Of a company 

A shoulder

Or worse 

A heart to share all this sadness with

Sad people bite the bullet

Inflict wounds upon their damaged self

As they gasp for breaths

And say "thank you" to anyone

Who smiles at them from a mile

Who does the bare minimum

And we bow at their feet

Who stand at the shore

While we cross oceans for them

Just to meet at a place

Where we finally say

"You found me"

Sad people like me are drooping flowers in a blooming garden

We never catch any attention

Yet when a good flower dies

We are blamed first

We become the bad fish in the pond

Sad people carry their sadness like a curse

We become a tribe 

Of people who shall not be touched 

Our sadness travel faster than a war cry

A whistle

A shriek 

And pierces the ears of all those accustomed to laughter

Sad people like me are the forgotten veterans 

Of a war fought years ago

Some with missing smiles

And others with teary eyes

We always become fighters

Survivors 

Our stories become morals for other

Our friendships, tales of casualties 

While our sadness is dehumanized

Becomes a danger

A grenade that may go off any time

So we do what we do best

We run

We run

Far from people

And let it consume us

Until our broken hearts lie on the ground

Shining

While we become heroes

For saving the world

Sad people like me are soil-filled cans

And When it rains

As it always does 

We bear the first flower of spring

And never call it our own...